Reflections on Phish: 'I forgot, for a time, I was on assignment'

Sep. 18, 2011

Fans crowd into the grandstand area at the Champlain Valley Expo in Essex Junction Wednesday night, September 14, 2011, for a special Phish concert to benefit Tropical Storm Irene flood victims in Vermont.

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To get ready for Phish’s flood recovery benefit concert, I listened to “Colorado ’88” (far out) and learned to text (reined in).

I went to Wednesday’s show at the fairgrounds with my friend and Free Press designer, John James, a Phish aficionado. We listened to Little Feat's “Dixie Chicken” driving to Essex Junction. On the way, we happened to see friends of John from upstate New York in the next lane, pulling into town for Phish. There were honks and hi’s all around, and the promise of a good time. We got to the show at 3 p.m. on a blue-sky day with puffy white clouds, and hung out by a fence listening to the sound check. The band sounded like they were in a good mood.

It was fun listening, and figuring out what songs they were messing around with. I was sorry when they put their instruments down.

We ran into my friend, Finn, with an extra big grin, steering his veggie oil-powered van through the fairgrounds. He had some kind of gig creating an aesthetic for the VIP area. Finn was thinking of making a raft – to honor the theme of the benefit – but I don’t think he pulled it off.

We saw Phish faithful who’d driven far without tickets rewarded at the box office: The band released a small number of tickets hours before show time. Fans used words like “magical” and “awesome” and “intense” to describe the event, the timing, the tickets.

At some point, John and I parted company and I went into the stadium at 6:45. A loose and relaxed crowd was starting to form on the tarp-covered dirt.

Near the front — but not too close — I staked out a spot on the Page side of the stage. On the far side was Fishman’s drum set: Any band whose drummer plays such a big kit is worthy of attention. People were filling in around me, the kind of fans who like to get close to the band: Young ones. My concert gear – pen and paper – was unlike that of the people near me.

But none of the boys (or dancing girls) seemed to mind an occasional jab from my elbow when I pulled pad from pocket to jot down a note. In fact, I was welcomed in our instantly forming neighborhood in an almost poignant way.

Our small group within the crowd of 12,000 was, to generalize, friendly, fun, informed, helpful and generous.

Though I’m old enough to be their mother, the kids graciously passed their pipe to me. Thank you, Nancy Reagan, for suggesting I just say no; I opted for “no, thanks.”

My new friends knew just about everything: from the last time “Psycho Killer” was played before a Phish show to the meaning of the design on Fishman’s tunic. They told me about hints dropped by Phish, at shows in Denver, about the last-minute Essex concert.

I used texting 101 to send updates to my editors: the guv is here; Sly is playing “Stand” over the PA; Mike says “We’re pumped.” The people around me agreed: Phish was pumped.

A few songs into the first set, a funny thing happened: My pad stayed in my pocket for longer stretches. I put my phone away and stopped sending messages to the newsroom. Deadlines and leads slipped from my mind. I forgot, for a time, I was on assignment. That’s a very unusual thing and a better way to listen to music — and there was some good stuff to hear Wednesday night at the fairgrounds.

During the show I sent a text to John, who was floating somewhere in the crowd.